Dancing Gracefully
by Zane's Girl- Jo
Summary: She had been a teenager when the film came out, and yet, it had left an impression on her, even at that age. When it came to her wedding, she wanted nothing more than to dance with her kitchen boy, while a silver storm fell outside. She wanted the figures dancing gracefully, with all the beauty of the Romanov royalty, and none of the tragedy. Little did she know, that it would take


******Dancing Gracefully**

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Summary: She had been a teenager when the film came out, and yet, it had left an impression on her, even at that age. When it came to her wedding, she wanted nothing more than to dance with her kitchen boy, while a silver storm fell outside. She wanted the figures dancing gracefully, with all the beauty of the Romanov royalty, and none of the tragedy. Little did she know, that it would take tragedy to bring about her beauty. Established McGiva. **

She took a deep breath, nervously smoothing the skirt of her dress down. She glanced at Tim, her eyes lighting up as he held out a hand to her. The wedding was perfect, beautiful in every way. They had chosen a beautiful Edwardian home-turned-restaurant-hotel for their reception. He'd let her choose the theme, and she had run with it. When she'd told him that 'Once Upon a December' was going to be the theme of their wedding, he'd raised his eyebrows, and simply asked,

_Why?_

So she'd pulled out the DVD of Don Bluth's _Anastasia_, and quickly skipped to _Once Upon A December_, when the spirits of the dead royalty brust from the paintings and waltz before Anya, as her deceased family members joined her on the ballroom floor, and she danced with her father. She'd explained that, even though she'd been a teenager when the film came out, it had such a profound affect on her- maybe because the main character found a family that loved her, a man that loved her- that all she'd ever wanted for her wedding- if she ever got the chance to marry- was to have a wedding as beautiful as the scene before her, without the tragedy that had fallen the doomed family.

And she'd gotten her wish, but with it came her own tragedy- a situation the couple had barely escaped from.

Leaving a restaurant one late evening, they'd been nabbed off the sidewalk. When they'd both woken up, they found themselves locked in a basement. The ones that held them demanded information on her father, information she couldn't- or wouldn't- give. They'd been held hostage for weeks, beaten, tortured, and just as both found themselves looking at the other end of a gun, her father had been assassinated. With news of Eli's death, they'd been let go. Shoved out onto the street in front of NCIS in the cold fall air, and left for dead. The group had been radical Islamists, looking to destroy Eli from the inside by going after his daughter, not realizing that she was valued so little by him. When he'd been killed, they'd released them, their mission accomplished, but their captives not without scars. It had taken months for them both to get over the affects of their situation, and they'd drawn on each other's strength, become each others' confidantes and best friends, until a marriage seemed impossible to deny.

And now, it had happened. They'd said their vows, exchanged rings; she'd taken his name, casting aside her father's name and the tragedy associated with it. She was allowed to start over, with her husband, the man she loved.

They'd had their first dance, the champagne, the cake, all of it, and now, they joined the rest of the guests on the dance floor, Tim pulling her into his arms and kissing her sweetly. The dress she wore was simple, yet reflective of the time she was so enamored with.

It was a modern take on the white gowns worn in the formal portraits of the Romanov daughters for the Romanov Tercenterary, only with a fitted bodice and flared skirt, with a bias-cut draped overlay of simple white lace, and a white sash tied in a bow at the back. The cut was sweetheart, with tank sleeves that met in a corset back, but other than that, the gown was fairly plain. Her dark hair was pulled back in a slight pompadour, long dark curls falling down her back, and instead of a tiara or a veil, she wore a simple white bow, much like the daughters wore. She still wore her Star of David, but also included a white gold bracelet that had been her mother's.

Snow blanketed the ground outside, giving the whole theme a very vintage feel. She wrapped her arms around his neck, nudging her nose against his. She could see Tony and Abby watching them, but paid them no mind, preferring to focus on her husband. "Thank you, Tim, for doing this for me." He smiled at her.

"My pleasure, Princess." She giggled, catching the curiosity of several others on the dance floor.

"I am no princess, Tim."

"Tonight, you are." As the song changed to _Once Upon A December_, Tim rested his head against hers, breathing, "Is it everything you wanted?"

She pulled away, staring into his eyes. "Everything and more, Tim." As the music sped up, they fell into the waltz, following the other couples around the dance floor, breaking form when needed; all couples exchanged partners except for the bride and groom. They stayed together, eyes locked, seeing only each other, not the bounty of color waltzing around them.

Their surrogate family stood back on the stairs leading to the ballroom, all dressed in their finest, watchi the party below. Abby had forgone her usual black in favor of the simple burgundy gown with the matching see-thru capelet sewn to it that Ziva had asked her to wear as her maid of honor. She too wore her hair in a pompadour, with a burgundy bow. Gibbs had dressed in his Marine finest, and watched his two youngest with pride.

Tony gazed upon his probie and ninja, realizing that if anyone deserved their happy ending, it was them. They'd endured so much- weeks of captivity, near death, loss... culminating in this beautiful display of love and raw trust. Ziva deserved to be the princess, the grand duchess, dancing in the arms of her prince, her kitchen boy, for a night, and so much more. She deserved the royal beauty she'd been enchanted with as a teenager, the haunting melody that now played around them, the wealth and happiness only a_ family_ can provide.

_The Romanovs realized it,_ he told himself. _And they died together, as a _family_._

When the song and dance came to an end, Tim stepped closer to his wife, and leaned down, taking her lips in a soft kiss, never releasing her hands. The photographer snapped an image, the sight of the bride and groom standing still amongst a sea of moving color- some blurred- for all time in the frame. It was a beautiful photograph, harking back to a lost era, of elegant palaces, and grand parties.

A special moment, captured forever in time, of love at its purest.


End file.
